Last night I’m standing in front of Marrowgar for our umpteenth attempt, and my inner perfectionist is crying. More like pulling her hair, ranting, raving and wondering how she ended up standing in front of the same bag of bones multiple times in one week and bemoaning her fate. However, I discovered a few important things as we made another valiant and unfortunate attempt against the fires of doom…
I’m Raiding and I Like It
While my inner perfectionist was being an emo-bitch, she was actually not taking up too much of MY time. If I happened to not repair every fight, the amount of gold I was spending made me give the nod to Ms. Whiney; however, otherwise, as I was standing in front of the boss or eating another tasty fish, I didn’t even give the deaths another thought, because, ultimately, I was enjoying myself.
Healing light flowed from my fingertips, chatting with friends in between attempts had me chuckling, and watching the new disc priest master his personal ADD dilemna brought me a lot of personal self-satisfaction. Honestly…
I Like Helping People
I know my GM loves me, but I’m sure she also looks at me a bit askance every time she sees “did you see X,” because it is invariably a criticism over someone’s gear, talents, enchants or general performance. Honestly I don’t try to see it… I want everyone to come in and pwn faces; however, when the destruction is of our team and not the boss standing in front of us… I can’t help myself, I start inspecting!
Take our newest member, a remarkebly fun and light-hearted disc priest. Last week he kept complaining about mana issues, but I didn’t take much note of it because bosses were dying, and he is new after all. However, last night we were struggling, and of our two big issues, one was tank deaths. At this point, I remember something that was troubling me on trash pull–every raid member had a tank bubble. A little lightbulb flashes, and I think “he’s assigned to tank heals, but bubbling the entire raid… in tank bubbles… that can’t be right… can it?”
I ask the GM–did you notice the tank bubbles–and she did notice them, so I’m not totally crazy. I start talking to our disc-y friend, and indeed, he is having problems with his tank, but can’t quite figure out why. Through death after agonizing death we chat about sticking to your assignment (so as not to stress out your raid healers), spell priorities, and generally, the differences between playing a holy and disc priest. I was occupied, engaged, and blithlessly ignoring the 5 people standing in the fire, waving their pixelated arms as they were consumed in a burst of blue flames. Ooops, looks like you did it again.
There is a Line
While I enjoy an amusing, fun, light-hearted and generally well-intentioned but horribly gruesome death as much as the next person (starfalling druid pulls the entire audience at the opera anyone?) I do have limits. Mine came last night after we miracolously saved the raid from a Deathwhisper acolyte pull + a big mucking spider beast thing. I was amazed. I was buffing my own health bars in self-congratulation. I was that high.
However, killing the trash was our last duty for the night–raid end time was 10 minutes after we downed Marrowgar (finally!) so we decided to end the night on a good note of yummy rep. Except for one player who thought a well-intentioned “omg, let’s pull!” moment would end the evening on a smashing note.
It did, yes indeed. I smashed my metaphorical fist into the guild, vent, and raid channels. I was bloody furious over this one last death. I sent a nasty message across all channels, gave the equivalent of the one-finger salute, and happily closed my laptop for the night. How dare that little tard kill me after I spent the entire night on the floor!
And So I Think
That maybe I don’t love raiding as much as I used to. Oh, there are still plenty of things I enjoy, and I can even ignore a bad night if I have someone to assist in learning their role in the scheme of things, but I definitely am not as light-hearted about a meaningless death as I used to be. I’ve purposefully killed my little avatar, a finicky god playing with an always revivable toy. However, my patience isn’t that same as it used to be, and I’m honestly unsure how I feel about my little temper tantrum before I left raid/guild for the night.
Like all things guild, it will either blow over quickly, or be a quaking catastrophe in the middle of a very family-style oriented guild. I hope for the former, and dread the latter. Most likely nothing will come of it other than a few apologies cluttering the purple text, and all will be forgiven. Yet the night reinforces my selfish attitude towards my time–when I’m having fun, I’m a gay, enjoyable companion, and when someone ruins my evening, I am not putting up with it. If it damages a relationship with a guild that I like quite a lot… well, we’ll just cross that bridge on another night.